Entertaining Destiny
by Aerohead
Summary: Wicked Ten years after the Wicked Witch's death, the Vinkus has seceeded from Oz, and a new ruler has taken over. But when the Gale Force's stupidity brings a Quadling boy to the Vinkus, will Elphaba come out of hiding to stop the abuse of his people?
1. Part One

Title: Entertaining Destiny  
  
Author: Aerohead  
  
Email: you can find me at capricornangel103 at   
  
Website: The RPG, **One if by Land, Two if by Sky** that this story is based off of, can be found on geocites. just type in , then put a /, then wickedoibltibs and you'll be there.  
  
Pairing: Fiyero/Elphaba, Fiyero/Glinda, OC/OC  
  
Rating: PG  
  
Disclaimer/Dedication: For L. Frank Baum, Gregory Maguire, Stephen Schwartz, and Winnie Holtzman who own this idea that I'm extending. Thank you for giving me the first part. Also, Destin belongs to Tori.  
  
Warning: spoiler for the ending of the musical Wicked, but that's pretty much about it.  
  
Genre: Romance, adventure (book/play amalgamation)  
  
Summary: The Vinkus is being used as a way for Quadlings to be taken to the Gillikin emerald mines. When a Quadling boy helps her daughter, Elphaba decides to stop the Gale Force from using Kumbricia's Pass as a way to smuggle people.  
  
Author's Notes: Part One is not beta'd, so I'm not sure if there are any mistakes. Also, this story is the preface to my RPG – the URL at in the "website" box - and each consecutive chapter will be another year.  
  
Part One  
  
_...Good news, she's dead... _

_...we shall still revere the lessons learned..._

_ ...no father is not proud of you, no sister acts ashamed... _

_...though I do admit it came on fast... _

_...something baad; sorry, bad... _

_...life is painless for the brainless, why think too hard when it's so soothing... _

_...now that I've chosen to become a pal, a sister and advisor, there's nobody wiser... _

_...I wasn't born for the rose and the pearl... _

_...I'll be back for good someday to make my mark and make my way..._

_ ...for I think everyone deserves the chance to fly..._

_ ...I'd sooner buy defying gravity... _

_...though it is, I admit, the tiniest bit unlike I anticipated..._

_ ...save him please just save him, my Boq, my sweet, my brave him..._

_ ...there are precious few at ease with moral ambiguities..._

_ ...say there's no future for us as a pair... ._

_..one question haunts and hurts too much, too much to mention... _

_...for once I'm glad I'm heartless, I'll be heartless killing her..._

_ ...I do believe I have been changed for the better..._

_ ...good news; good news...  
_  
Words. Words that came together, that told a story; though out of context they meant nothing. Ten years ago, the words had been fresh on the lips of every Ozian citizen that lived within the confines of the Wizard's reign. How things could go around full circle, it amazed the woman standing in front of the mirror to no end.  
She could remember all of it crystal clear, as if she had never pulled herself away from that life. She could remember being ostracized and teased while others paraded around smiling and doing good. She remembered the fighting in her own dorm room. She remembered all the fuss made over a Winkie prince of dwindling intelligence.  
Of course, she remembered other things, too. She remembered her roomie; her best and only friend. She remembered Boq, her childhood friend whom she thought she could trust. She remembered the first time she had ever felt free. She also remembered the hurt and angry look on her friend's face that night at the engagement party.  
"You think too much." said a voice from behind her.  
"I make up for the lack of thinking you do." She turned to look into painted blue eyes, smiling lightly.  
"That hurt." Said the Scarecrow, crossing his arms. He looked at her curiously, before, "so, what were you thinking about?"  
The woman turned from him to look back into the mirror. "Life; ours, Glinda's, Oz's. How can we know that the series of events we set off was correct?"  
"How about this; if you didn't set off those events, I'd be dead, and where would you be? An insane old woman with a hundred cats and a strong dislike for small children."  
She couldn't help but to laugh at that. "But if I hadn't shown up in the first place..."  
"I'd be stuck groveling and scraping and playing second-fiddle to Glinda's goodness." The Scarecrow shrugged. "I don't mind, really. And, once you figure out how to reverse it, then we can live happily ever after as outcasts." He hugged her close to him. "Believe me, I don't mind."

There were two shots in succession. Aran opened his eyes to find himself face down in the mud. For a moment, he thought he had been shot, then realized the only pain he felt was in his head from where he had been hit by the wrong end of the gun.  
He pulled himself out of the dirt, only to see what had been shot. A small figure lay a few feet away from him. He could hear low voices behind him, but he didn't care. He pulled himself close to the body; it was a small, greenish boy whose blue eyes – now filmed over – were wide with disbelief. He struggled, but got the eyes to close just as two tall dark men with strange tattoos along their arms came over. They looked at him, disgusted by his appearance, before they carefully picked up the body of the little boy.  
He could still hear voices; though. Another man came over, but this one touched a trail of blood that led into the tall grass next to the path. He motioned toward it, and then there was rustling in the grass. But the man stayed with him. He was picked up and the man started to follow the trail of blood with Aran in his arms.  
The man veered away from the blood trail, however, and started to walk up to a large, forbidden-looking castle. The man knocked on what appeared to be a servant's entrance, and it opened. He handed Aran to a concerned looking woman, and explained something to her in a language Aran didn't know. The woman nodded, and set Aran onto a table.  
"Can you stay up by yourself?" Asked the woman. Aran nodded, for the first time noticing the tattoos on her arms, also.  
"Well, what do you think, Mellesse?" asked the man who had brought Aran into the room.  
She pushed the left side of Aran's hair away, looking at the long, deep cut that spanned the left side of his face. She touched it, but he didn't wince. Eyebrow's raised, the woman grabbed a moist cloth, dabbing the blood off. She studied the nearly healed cut in amazement, before looking over at the worried man. "Well, Pfen, you're a medicine man, what do you make of this?"  
The man looked at the cut on Aran's face, eyes calculating. "It seems fine to me."  
"Exactly!" cried the woman. "And you know what, Pfen? It shouldn't be! He should still be bleeding. A cut like that! Why, the poor boy should have brain damage!"  
The two strange people looked at each other, before looking at Aran.  
"What's your name, boy?" The man – Pfen – asked.  
"Aran of the Naeva clan." He answered quietly.  
They looked at each other again. "Naeva clan?" said the woman. "Never heard of them, duckie." She said, trying to look soothing to the petrified boy.  
"Where are you from?" Pfen asked.  
"Ovvels, I think." Pfen nodded, turning to the woman.  
"Post-traumatic stress; he'll have memory loss of the events leading up to that bang on the head for a couple of months, if not years along." The woman nodded, sending Aran a sympathetic look. Then her head popped up, an idea striking her. She grabbed Pfen's hands, jumping up and down excitedly. "What is it, Mellesse?" He asked, trying to stay rooted to the ground. She smiled, still bouncing on the balls of her feet. Aran had never seen such high-energy adults before. Of course, he couldn't remember a lot of anything that happened up until two weeks previous.  
"We should send him up to the Mistress; she wants someone to help the child after everything that's happened today, so why not send him? He'd be good for her, I think. She needs someone her own age, you know." Mellesse didn't seem as if she would be letting go of Pfen anytime soon, so he sighed, resigned to his fate.  
"Mellesse, I have been asked to..."  
"To take care of the wound, I know. But what about the mental stress?" she asked, pulling away to put her hands on her rather spacious hips. "I'm no miracle worker, Pfen, like you claim to be, but I do know a thing or three about small children. After the little Master's death, the little Miss is going to have a hard time adjusting; I think she needs someone to be friends with." She turned and smiled lightly at Aran. "You go out through that door, Master Aran, and up the long staircase straight in front of you. Follow it all the way up, and open the door it leads to, the Mistress should be in there."  
Aran nodded and got off the table gingerly. He followed the directions that were given to him and came to a room where there was quiet talking. He felt someone behind him and turned to see a white-faced and panting Pfen.  
"I thought it would be a good idea if you were escorted as the Mistress can be...temperamental when she is upset." Pfen said, before knocking.  
"Come in!" Came the slightly brisk reply from the other side. Aran opened the door, and was greeted with what would have been a wonderful picture of just how creepy the castle really and truly was.  
The room was sparse; with only a mirror, a small dresser, a few chairs, and a bed it seemed to be a place to keep the dead and unwanted than a place for a child to be. There were three people already in the room – a nervous female maid, a figure draped from head to foot in black, and of all things a Scarecrow. The Scarecrow seemed to be very drawn and upset, and was looking at the bed with a frown. Aran from his angle couldn't see the bed, and was starting to wish he hadn't come to the room, as the figure in black started to turn.  
"Who's this, Pfen?" the figure asked, standing. From the voice, Aran assumed a woman was under the never-ending cascade of black.  
"He says his name is Aran of the Naeva Clan of Ovvels." Pfen said, putting a hand on Aran's shoulder.  
"A Quadling," the woman said, nodding. "But what's he doing here?"  
"I assume they were taking him to Ugabu and from there to Gillikin and the Glikkus to mine emeralds." Pfen said. No one in the room had to ask who 'they' were; everyone knew that the Gale Force was getting increasingly out of the control of seventeen-year-old Shiz student Dorothy Gale.  
Pfen nodded, his grip on Aran's arm tightening. "He seems to have been hit on the head with a blunt object – possibly a musket – and has sustained a large head wound. However, it's almost fully healed, although I think it should still be bleeding."  
The faceless woman looked at Aran. "What does this have to do with Faeba?" She asked, voice not betraying any outward emotion.  
"I think, well, that is to say Mellesse thinks that they would be good together. He could help her, and if he could get her to wake up then I can work on the leg and..."  
Pfen looked down as the woman touched Aran. He would have though she wouldn't be gentle – she seemed to him to be the rough type – but she was very gentle, and touched the scarring wound on his face with light fingertips. She came face-to-face with him, and he could see verdigris in her skin-tone and dark, sorrow-filled eyes. "If you can wake up my daughter, then I promise you that I will allow you to stay here and I will find a way to keep the Gale Force out of the Vinkus and away from you. Is that a deal?"  
Aran nodded. The woman smiled, before getting up. "There's an empty room one floor down, if you'd like it." Said the maid as Pfen and the woman left the room.  
"Uh, sure, thanks." Aran said, not sure what he was getting himself into.  
"Yes, sir." Said the maid, curtseying before fleeing the room. As she left, Aran started over to the bed. He sat down in the chair the Witch had vacated, looking at the bed.  
A girl lay under a large quantity of white sheets and a light blue puff, and although her eyes were closed she was shivering. Her hair was dark and curly, falling around and into her sweat-streaked face. Aran reached out, pushing a strand of nearly black hair off of the girl's face. He stopped in his actions as he looked in wonder at the contrast between their skin; he had never seen anybody, not even Pfen, Mellesse, or the maid, with skin that dark before. He trailed his index finger down her cheek, pushing stuck strands of hair off of her face as he went. He stopped at her neck, looking curiously. There were blue markings on her neck – four blue diamonds, two on each side. He touched one, realizing that they were slightly different from the ones on Pfen's arms and face. He wondered what they meant, but then resumed what he had been doing before; looking, not touching.  
From the brief contact he had made with her skin, she had felt as if she was burning up from fever, and he now understood the blankets and the shivering.  
"Who are you?" he whispered to the sleeping form. "Why do they want me to take care of you? You can't be much younger than me, can you?" The eleven-year-old Quadling put his hands on his knees, looking at the girl intently.  
"Her name's Fabala." Came a male voice from behind. Aran turned, looking at the Scarecrow. "From the Unionist saint Aelphaba." Aran nodded dumbly, still not used to the talking inanimate object.  
"Is she...uh...you know...?" Aran felt himself blushing at his sudden dumbstruck demeanor. "I mean, that woman...who, eh, was she?"  
The Scarecrow seemed to smile at that. "That depends, who do you think she was?" he asked.  
Aran looked down, shaking his head. "No one; I don't think she was anyone I should worry about," he looked at the Scarecrow, "right?"  
The Scarecrow nodded and left without another word. Aran looked over at the form of the girl, before pushing the chair back and getting up. He went over to a small pitcher of water and searched until he found a small piece of cloth. He wet the cloth and wrung it out, bringing it over to the bed. Gently, he leaned over, placing the cloth onto the girl's head.  
And pulled it off quickly when the figure in the bed started to flail. Aran inspected the place where the cloth had been, blinking in surprise at the angry red mark left on the dark skin.

Three more days went by, and Aran was getting barely any sleep. Pfen came and went, occasionally with the Scarecrow, both filling Aran in on gossip from the Emerald City and beyond.  
"A Gillikin man is supposed to come next year and try and work out a policy between Gillikin and the Vinkus to allow the Gale Force to pass through here to get to the Ugabu region." Pfen said conversationally one afternoon.  
"Do you think they'll get very far into negotiations?" asked Aran, always eager and terrified about news from the Emerald City.  
The Scarecrow and Pfen looked at each other, before, simultaneously, they started laughing uproariously.  
"The Mistress allowing a Gillikin to pester her?" sputtered Pfen.  
"She won't even let him get within ten feet of the stairwell leading up to her room!" The Scarecrow said.  
Aran nodded. "I thought as much." He said. He was watching Fabala's body, intent on using mental power to get her to move. When the water had had such an astounding effect on her skin, Aran had asked Mellesse and Pfen for some rosemary salves, one of the few things he could remember his mother ever doing. And from the teary smile he got from Mellesse when he told her, it was apparently a miracle he could remember that at all.  
Aran didn't listen to the chatter around him, but watched the dark lips of the even darker girl lying on the bed in front of him. They were moving ever so slowly, and it was taking Aran a few minutes to actually realize that they were moving. "Pfen, look!" he said, pointing at Fabala.  
Pfen and the Scarecrow stopped in their chatter about the Gillikin who wanted to come to the Vinkus, and Pfen was next to Fabala in an instant. "Aran, go to the Mistress' room and get her." Pfen ordered. Aran didn't move, he just stood, staring at Pfen as if he were insane. Pfen turned, dark brown eyes flashing. "NOW!"  
"Y-yes, of course!" he stuttered, before getting up and running out the door. He got down about two flights of stairs before stopping. He realized for the first time he didn't know where the Mistress' room was.  
However, he could hear her voice.  
"Miss!" he called, now going down the steps three at a time. "Miss!" he had reached the landing on the first floor, and could see the disgusted look on Mellesse's face.  
"We have visitors, Master Aran." She said, though the words were bit through closed teeth.  
Aran looked over at a young boy, of the Yunamata tribe, who was followed closely by a Gillikin man wearing the dark green befitting a man of power in the Emerald City. Next to him was a scrawny boy about two or three years older than Aran was, wearing starched and perfect – if not a little bedraggled – pleated pants and a dark blue shirt. Aran looked at him skeptically. "Oh."  
"They were caught traipsing around in the Thousand-Year Grassland, too close to Red Windmill for comfort." said the young Yunamata. "I thought, since it is Arjiki territory, they should be prisoners here."  
The boy smiled maliciously as the Gillikinese man bustled like a picture of the Wind, while the Gillikin boy seemed nervous. "We are not going to be prisoners! Once my fiancée finds out about this, she'll...she'll...she'll come here right away and release us without having to go through anyone of your people." He said, bristling. Aran wondered if the man had noticed that he wasn't the only foreigner in the room.  
"Who are you?" Aran asked, as politely as he could, under the circumstances.  
The man blew himself up more than necessary. "I am Lord Bromley of Nokomyu Hall in Dixxi House, soon-to-be husband to Her Goodness herself!" He huffed, before clasping a slightly porkish hand around the lithe boy in front of him. "And this is my son, the next Lord of Nokomyu Hall, Destin."  
Mellesse's lips were pursed. "At the mention of his beloved, the Mistress decided it best if she didn't come down." Her face softened when she turned to Aran. "But what did you want, Master Quadling?"  
Ignoring the blank stare of Lord Bromley and the first human looked from young Master Destin, Aran, grabbed Mellesse's hands, barely able to contain himself. "Fabala's lips are moving; I don't know if it means anything, but Pfen told me to fetch the Mistress."  
Mellesse drew herself up, pulling Aran down the hall. "And fetch her you shall."  
The two raced down a hallway to a closed door. "Mistress!" called Mellesse, pounding on the door and bouncing on the balls of her feet.  
"What?" came the curt reply from behind the mahogany door.  
"You tell her, child." whispered Mellesse.  
"Uh...Miss? It's Fabala."  
The door opened, and Aran looked up at the green face of the woman behind the door. "What about Fabala?" she asked, apparently nervous.  
Aran quickly recapped everything that had happened, and she nodded, following him through the kitchen and up the staircase.  
When they reached the room, they were quite the procession; Aran led the way, with Mellesse close at hand and Elphaba right behind her. Also following were two very shell-shocked Gillikinese captives. Pfen looked up at their presence, smiling as he stood in front of the bed. "She's awake!" cried the Scarecrow, hugging Elphaba.  
"And in a lot of pain." came the indignant reply from the bed.  
Pfen moved away so that Fabala was in full view. Aran heard a small gasp from behind him, and turned to Destin, whose deep green eyes had become the size of dinner plates.  
It was understandable, to Aran at least, but the Gillikin only received two glares from Elphaba and the Scarecrow. The boy flushed quickly, before looking away.  
"Who...are all these people?" asked Fabala, wincing every time Pfen washed out the bullet wound.  
Looking around the room, the Witch smiled to her daughter. "This, Fabia, is your family, for as long as they are here." Her smile turned to Aran, and she put one green hand on his tan shoulder. "You've done what we've asked you to do, Aran, you can stay here as long as you like or need."  
"Thank you, Miss...?"  
"Miss Elphaba." She said, before she turned on Lord Bromley, a frown etched over her face. "As for you two, we will arrange for you to leave on the next caravan that comes through the Vinkus, unless, of course, Glinda decides to send for you personally, although I hear she's been very busy after all these years."  
Lord Bromley, very pale and sickly looking at the sight of Elphaba, pointed. "Yo-you're supposed to be dead!"  
"Mmm, and I was supposed to be enjoying the afterlife with my family, until you decided to pop in unexpectedly." She scowled, before grabbing Lord Bromley and pulling him away. "Now, we have to discuss what you will and will not tell your beau when you return to the Emerald City." She said as they exited the room, Destin on their heels.  
Pfen finished cleaning Fabala's leg, and looked up at Mellesse and the Scarecrow. "So, poor unfortunates gone vacationing in Fliaan?" he asked conversationally.  
Mellesse's lips pursed again. "I wouldn't doubt it." She grumbled as she helped Pfen pack his medical equipment. The Scrow scowled at his companion, before checking Fabala's leg once more. They left in a heated discussion about how long it would take for Lord Bromley's presence to be missed in Dixxi House.  
Once they left, the Scarecrow moved over to Fabala, whispering something in her ear. She nodded, smiling, and hugged him back. "Be good my little Fabi." He said quietly, his painted lips brushing against her forehead. Aran winced at the memory of the water, but let it go as the Scarecrow left, clapping him on the back with one straw hand on his way.  
Alone, Aran moved closer to Fabala, before taking a step back. She turned to him; up close, she had the most impressive blue eyes he had ever seen, and he had to gulp in order to keep himself in check.  
She smirked at him, watching his expression. Even the glint of mischief in her eyes seemed slightly dead. "So, you were the Quadling they were taking to the emerald mines?" she asked, nodding toward the chair near her bed.  
Aran moved over to it, and sat down. "Yeah, I was."  
Fabala picked at a loose string in the blue duvet cover, before looking up at him. "Pfen said you've stayed by my side all night for the past three nights, and that you weren't going to let anything happen to me." Aran could only nod. "Thanks." Fabala said quietly.  
"You're welcome." He thought for a moment, before looking back at her. "Though, I did try to stop your fever with water, but it didn't work."  
Fabala smiled wryly at that. "You know, they said Mother melted, but she was never allergic to water; I am." Aran made a mental note to remember that, before pointing to the small bottle next to her bed. "I did use rosemary oil, and yesterday I had some calamint oil. That right there's thyme extract." Fabala considered it.  
"I've never thought of that before, but it's a good solution to it; when in extract, they cool your body, don't they?"  
"Yes." They were silent for a few moments, just staring at the bottle, before Aran held out his hand. "I'm Aran of the Naeva tribe in Ovvels." He said.  
"I'm Fabala of the Arjiki tribe in Red Windmill and Thropp Second Descending of Nest Hardings, on my mother's side." She said, putting out her hand. They shook, sealing a friendship that would see many things, much more strange then the circumstances in which they began.


	2. Part Two

Title: Entertaining Destiny  
  
Author: Aerohead  
  
Email: capricornangel103 at yahoo  
  
Website: geocities dot com slash wickedoibltibs  
  
Pairing: Fiyero/Elphaba, Fiyero/Glinda, OC/OC  
  
Rating: PG  
  
Disclaimer/Dedication: L. Frank Baum, Gregory Maguire, Winnie Holtzman, Stephen Schwartz, and Tori, who still owns Destin by no fault of her own.  
  
Warning: Spoiler for the musical, mixture of musical/play  
  
Genre: Romance, adventure (book/play amalgamation)  
  
Summary: The Vinkus is being used as a way for Quadlings to be taken to the Gillikin emerald mines. When a Quadling boy helps her daughter, Elphaba decides to stop the Gale Force from using Kumbricia's Pass as a way to smuggle people.  
  
Author's Notes: Thank you to nancystagerat, who reviewed. I'm also glad you like it, I'm always nervous about stuff I write. Also, this chapter is still not beta'd, so if there are any mistakes, I'm sorry.  
  
Part Two  
  
_ Screaming; mostly all that could be heard was screaming. The words they were saying weren't comprehensible, but they were bitter and angry. It felt like he was being clawed apart by some wild beast, though the only one he could see was the foreigner that was dragging him through dirt and marshland. For a moment, he had Lord Bromley's pancake-shaped face, and then he had the face of Destin, drawn and pinched and starved-looking. Suddenly, though, the face became decidedly female, though he didn't know the blonde it had turned into. It was almost as if he was being taken by all of Gillikin at once and not one person cared. Except for those screaming, but then he heard shots, and that stopped. There was a musket held in front of his face, and incoherent jeering came from the faceless face...  
_  
...Aran woke up, sweaty and frightened, only to come face-to-face with a pair of large blue eyes. With a yelp, he tried to back away, but that only succeeded in him falling rather ungracefully off his bed, tangling him in the summer sheets as he did so.  
"Aran, are you all right?" Fabala asked. He could hear it in her voice; she was worried, but she couldn't help but laugh at him.  
"Go on, laugh, I won't mind." He grumbled, untangling his legs and pulling himself back onto the bed.  
"But are you all right?" She asked, helping him up.  
He shrugged, fixing his pillows into the formation he liked. "I guess I am." He looked up at her, and they were silent for a moment. The sound of water hitting the stone of Kiamo Ko was the only distinguishable sound for the long moments. It was a May shower – thank Lurline – and it was the first in nearly a year; the first shower since Aran had been taken in by the Wicked Witch of the West as a surrogate son. His twelfth birthday had just passed, too. It felt so odd that this was the only life he could remember.  
"It's raining." Fabala said, breaking his thoughts.  
"Yeah, I can hear it." Aran agreed, confused by the bland statement.  
Fabala shook her head. "I mean, the East Window blew open, fully, and the rain's blowing into my room."  
"Oh...oh!" Aran groaned, cursing his idiocy. He shifted in the bed, moving one of the pillows and indicating it to Fabala. "Here, you can stay in here, if you'd like. Or you could go to Destin."  
Fabala grimaced at the thought. "Mother thinks Glinda is just going to leave him here to rot because he's not as good as her last fiancé." Fabala confided, flopping onto the pillow very ungracefully, her braided hair nearly smacking Aran in the face.  
"Your mother doesn't think too highly of Her Goodness, does she?" Aran asked. Fabala shrugged.  
"There are stories fa...the Scarecrow tells me, about Mother when she was younger, and about Glinda. There are stories about hate and friendship, and I'm not sure which are true." Aran merely nodded, not sure what to say. He had become good acquaintances with Fabala, but there was nothing close to true friendship there yet, and this midnight visit surprised him.  
Though she only came here because she'd have an allergic reaction in her room, he reasoned with himself. He shook his head; thinking so late at night was hazardous to his health.  
He peered over at Fabala, smirking lightly. "Can we play twenty questions?" he asked. She turned to him, intrigued.  
"I've never heard of it."  
"Well, I ask you ten questions, and then you ask me ten. It's something Tempress does with the smaller children; I've seen her with them near the River." He said, ignoring Fabala's shutter at the mention of the Vinkus River.  
"Okay, you go first." She said, lying down on the pillow.  
"One...who's your father, I've never seen him." He asked, watching Fabala's face carefully.  
"You've met my father, but you wouldn't believe me if I told you."  
Aran sighed; he had asked her the question once before, and received the same answer. "Fine, be that way. Two, was your brother...um..."  
"Green?" asked Fabala, watching Aran as he nodded, blushing. She smiled sadly, closing her eyes. "Yes."  
Aran looked over at her, surprised. He had thought his eyes had been playing tricks on him. "Oh...eh...three, I guess..." he stopped to think for a moment.  
"If you're struggling on your third question, how are you going to get through seven more?" Fabala teased, making Aran scowl.  
"What do you think of Lord Bromley?"  
"Haven't you already asked me that?" She turned so that she was on her stomach, and propped herself up on her arms. "I find him annoying, self- centered, and piggish and not just in the way he looks. I'm glad I'm not a Pig, or I'd want my Life ended the moment I spotted him." She smirked. "Is that a good enough answer?"  
He laughed, nodding. "Okay, okay, question four; in a fight, who do you think would win, me or Destin?"  
She blinked once, then twice. "Are you serious? Destin couldn't win a fight against an elf."  
"Question five," Aran said rather quickly, "and this is getting old fast, really,"  
"Then why don't we only ask each other five questions each?"  
"Because that's not the game!" sighed Aran, throwing his pillow at Fabala. She caught it, and put it behind her head.  
"Thank you, I needed another pillow." He shook his head, before pouting.  
"Fine, I only have two questions to go." He pouted, rolling onto his own stomach to be more comfortable. "Five, why do you always have your hair braided?"  
Fabala shifted uncomfortably, touching her braid. She reached a piece out of place, and took it down, redoing it with nimble fingers. "It's a sign that I'm not a child anymore, like the tattoos, that's all." She said, defensive wall up.  
"Okay, I didn't mean to make you mad." He relented, touching her arm gently. She nodded once; a sign that she was alright to continue.  
"My last question's this; what do you believe?"  
Fabala squinted at him as if he had gone thoroughly insane, before dawning broke through on her face. "I'm atheist, actually. My feeling is, if the unionists have a wonderful God, why is he called the Unnamed God? If he loved us, wouldn't we know his name? And, as for Lurlinists, why should we put our trust in a fairy? How could something pink and perky save us? It's as incredulous as...as...well, as a house falling on a person!"  
"But that has happened, Fabala." He teased, making her turn red. "What about pfaithists?"  
"The pleasure faith?" she asked, making a face. "I think they're all insane; those kumbric witches and those skimpy costumes, it's all sparkled- up sex." Aran coughed, looking up at Fabala in shock. She merely grinned, happy that she could make him blush as bad as he had made her. "It's true, and you know it."  
"You really didn't have to say it quite in that manner." Aran mumbled, ashamed that he had to admit he was thinking along the same lines. He gulped, trying to move the game along. "So...it's your turn...to ask questions, that is." He said.  
Fabala looked at the small window in Aran's room, watching the rain fall angrily outside. "Are you sure you can answer my questions?" She asked.  
Aran shrugged. "Well, I can answer a few, at least, can't I? It's only fair, you know."  
Fabala shrugged. "What do you think of Bromley and Destin?"  
  
"I've seen more exciting people, and I'd probably like Destin if he wasn't Gillikinese."  
Fabala moved closer to him, voice a low conspiratorial whisper. "You know, I heard them talking one night; Destin's mother is from Nest Fallows, making him only part Gillikin. It was apparently a huge scandal in Dixxi House when Lord Bromley announced a Munchkinlander was going to be his wife."  
Aran nodded, impressed at his companion's adept at sneaking around the castle so easily. Fabala smiled, before yawning. She threw him his pillow, before nestling down on top of the covers, closing her eyes. "No more questions tonight, Aran, but I'll see you tomorrow morning. G'night."  
"Lurline bless, Fae." Fabala made a face.  
"My father calls my mother Fae." She said.  
Aran sighed, defeated. He closed his eyes, listening to the rain and Fabala's breathing, before he, too, fell asleep.  
  
When Lord Bromley and his sickly-looking son had first arrived in Red Windmill, they would not take breakfast with the others in the house. They held firmly to the belief that they would be rescued by Glinda the Good in no time flat. Of course, a few months after their arrival, all of Oz was snowed-in, a surprising occurrence, since snow usually did not fall in Quadling Country. The Vinkus, however, stayed dry, but still no caravans came to take the Lord away and no good witch in a bubble appeared on the doorstep, either.  
The good witch in a bubble seemed to be what bothered Elphaba the most about Lord Bromley and Destin staying at Kiamo Ko. Whenever the name 'Glinda' was spoken, she seemed upset, and would usually leave the room – the correct term would be to flee the room, but as she was the Mistress of Kiamo Ko, no one dared to correct themselves.  
By about March of that year, Lord Bromley had resigned himself to his fate; no one at Dixxi House cared that he was gone, his lady-love was probably looking for him but far too busy with the rest of Oz to search for him herself, and there would be no caravans for a very long time since travel through the Vinkus was more harsh now that it had declared independence. So the man and his fourteen-year-old son had started to show up at the normal breakfast table of Kiamo Ko, even if it was an odd sort that gathered there.  
Lord Bromley and little Lord Destin always sat on the side of the table facing the kitchen window. Next to him was the Scarecrow at the head of their side of the table, and Destin on his other side. Across was Mellesse who sat there because her station as head cook demanded respect and the allowance of getting to eat her own hard work. Next to Mellesse was always Pfen, and next to him was his daughter Tempress. Across from her was an empty seat that separated Destin and Fabala, who sat next to Aran and who, in turn, sat next to Elphaba. Elphaba, the head of their side of the table, had two seats next to her open for Yunamata and Scrow delegates who needed to discuss crucial inter-tribal issues, and there were many times that the need arouse for them to have a meal between delegations.  
"The problem with a woman running a country," Lord Bromley said that morning over runny scrambled eggs and dried bacon, "is that they have to multitask. There always has to be something else of more import than the country in their hands; for instance, my Glinda has all of Oz on her shoulders, but her main task is raising her hellion of a daughter...have I said something to offend?" Lord Bromley looked up, realizing the table had gone suddenly quiet.  
"Glinda has a daughter?" asked the Scarecrow, meekly looking away when he caught the glare from Elphaba.  
Lord Bromley nodded, peering at the Winkies as if they were all rather off. "Of course she does; a twelve-year-old girl." Destin nodded, as if he had to back up the statement.  
"I'm just...surprised, that's all." Elphaba said flippantly, looking down at her eggs and taking a bite out of them.  
Destin reached across the table to grab himself a flat cake, when his arm hit his glass of water. It spilled almost instantly, and Fabala pushed away from the table, to keep away from the splash.  
"Idiot." Muttered Aran as he quickly grabbed a cloth and sopped up the water.  
Destin smirked to himself. "Are you a servant boy, now, Quadling?"  
Aran stopped mid-soaking, and his hands were batted away by Mellesse. "Now, there's no need for you to do that, Master Aran, you just go make sure Miss Fabala's all right, okay?" She smiled fondly at him, before glaring daggers at the Gillikinese boy.  
Aran nodded, quickly moving to Fabala's side once more. He knelt down next to her, checking the light purple skirt and the white top for any water marks. "Are you okay?" he asked quietly.  
Fabala's face was contorted with anger. "Why that crass, self- centered little...when I get my hands on him, I'll...I'll..."  
Aran smiled to himself. An angry Fabala was one that wasn't having an allergic reaction. "You'll do what?" he whispered. She looked down at him, realizing for the first time he was kneeling next to her. "Fae, I don't think you've noticed, but you lack some of the anatomical parts for you to be threatening Destin's life."  
Fabala glared at him, before getting up and heading out of the room with quick, easy strides. Aran stood, watching in her wake, and winced when he heard the door between the antechamber and the servant's entrance slam.  
Elphaba watched her daughter leave, before turning to Aran. The boy blushed, realizing the rest of the table was watching him, too. With a muttered apology to the table and a quick look towards Destin and Lord Bromley, he skidded out of the kitchen and through the servant's entrance.  
Outside, in the small valley between Kiamo Ko and Red Windmill, it didn't look like it had rained the previous night at all. The sky was blue and cloudless, the sun was high overhead, and the temperature had to be close to the hundreds. Aran had to shield his eyes to see around him, though it did not help much.  
He spotted a dark figure moving towards the Thousand-Year Grasslands, and sighed. Fabala would be the only person to go to the Grasslands when they were upset. That, and he could tell it was her by the slight limp on the left side. He ran down the slope after her, tripping on small rocks and small pieces of dried up grass on the way.  
It was relatively easy for Aran to catch up to her. Although Pfen had fixed her leg as best he could, Fabala still limped, and on days as hot and muggy as it was, she was impeded in her gate by a knee that kept stubbornly locking up. It was Aran's good fortune to catch up with her on one such occasion, and he grabbed her arm, pulling her towards him. She tried to pull away, but in her hurry, she nearly toppled over, and grabbed him for support. Aran wasn't ready for her to latch onto him, and lost his balance, making him fall over into hard, brittle grass-stalks. They made large snapping noises all along his descent to the ground, and were rather painful when he finally made contact, Fabala on top of him.  
They looked at each other for a moment, before Fabala pulled herself off of him, fixing her skirt. She pulled herself up slowly, and they both winced when her knee popped back into place. Aran dusted himself off, before pulling himself up.  
"I'm sorry, you know." He said. Fabala turned away; walking through the tall stalks of grass without showing any sign that she had heard him. "About, you know the girl comment."  
"I'll have you know that I'm as strong as any boy." Fabala said, putting her chin in the air defiantly.  
"Uh-huh," Aran said, raising an eyebrow. "And as stubborn as a mule." He looked up at the sky, towards the overcast sun, and groaned. "So, is it either no rain at all, then downpour after downpour here?" he asked. Fabala suppressed a giggle.  
"That's how it goes; you're catching on fast for a Quadling." She teased. They started back to Kiamo Ko.  
Aran kept sneaking glances at Fabala. He wasn't sure what it was, but there was just something about the girl that made him wish he could remember his past just so he could tell her, and only her. He sighed; if this was friendship, he was seriously reconsidering the idea of allowing Fabala to stay with him the night before. "Come on," he said, tugging on her sleeve. "We should get to your room and fix that window, before the storm comes." As he said it, a roll of thunder echoed across the Grasslands, making both jump. Fabala looked up at the sky, before starting to run.  
"Let's go then!" She called over her shoulder. Aran smiled. At least he really did have a friend his own age at Kiamo Ko know; even if the only male his age was still annoying. 


	3. Part Three

Title: Entertaining Destiny  
  
Author: Aerohead  
  
Email: capricornangel at yahoo  
  
Website: aw, just look in my profile because the editor's being a prat and won't let me put my URL in.  
  
Pairing: Elphaba/Fiyero, Glinda/Fiyero, Glinda/OC, OC/OC  
  
Rating: PG – PG13  
  
Disclaimer/Dedication: L. Frank Baum, Gregory Maguire, Winnie Holtzman, and Stephen Schwartz for giving Wicked the life I'm now leeching off of. Also for Tori, who made Destin.  
  
Warning: Spoilers for the end of the play, also, it's an amalgamation of the book and play.  
  
Genre: Romance, adventure  
  
Summary: The Vinkus is being used as a way for Quadlings to be taken to the Gillikin emerald mines. When a Quadling boy helps her daughter, Elphaba decides to stop the Gale Force from using Kumbricia's Pass as a way to smuggle people.  
  
Author's Notes: Still not beta'd. If anyone would like to beta this, I'd be more than happy to let them, all you have to do is tell me or email me.  
  
Part Three  
  
Elphaba sat at the table, head in hands. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. "So, you're telling me," she said slowly, deliberately, looking at the men sitting beside her. "That the Gale Force has stopped all caravans from entering or exiting the Vinkus from both Ugabu and Gillikin?"  
  
"Yes," said the Yunamata man, nodding solemnly. "The only hope we have of getting those two back to their home is by having Her Goodness come and take them away."  
Elphaba rubbed the bridge of her nose, trying to sort it out. "So, you're telling me that we have to let her come here, to the castle, and let her in?"  
"We don't have to let her in." said the Scrow man. Elphaba opened one hawk-like eye.  
"I'm all ears." She said, deadpan.  
The two men looked at each other. "Have her come, but take them to Red Windmill, and leave them with one of your servants, like Pfen or Mellesse, and then she won't need to know you're here."  
Elphaba shook her head. "Not good; I need to discuss the illegal trade of Quadlings to the emerald mines, whether it means facing her or not."  
"I'll go." Said the Scarecrow, moving to the small negotiating table. Six pairs of eyes fell on him.  
"Fiyero, no..."  
"No, Elphie, listen, she knows me only as the Scarecrow, nothing more or less; if it's Fabala's safety you're worried about, or your own, and you still want to talk about Aran, then let me go and talk to her." He shrugged. "What's the worst that could happen?"  
Elphaba let out a small sigh. "Do you want an answer to that?" She asked. She stood, nodding and waving a hand dismissively. "Fine, send word to Glinda that her fiancé and his son are fine but have no way to return home. Then we'll go from there."

"It's adorable!" Fabala said, thrilled. Destin smirked, although he winced as he did so. He had gotten a small diamond tattooed onto his shoulder blade, to show he had spent his teen years in the Vinkus. He looked over to the doorway of the High Tower, where Aran stood, arms crossed around his chest, watching Destin impress Fabala with an animal of all things.  
"If you want him, you can keep him." Destin said, petting the little black and white kitten. Fabala looked at him, before looking over at the cat. It made a small purring sound, before pushing its head against her hand.  
"Really?" she said, nearly jumping on Destin. He laughed, nodding. "Where'd you find him?"  
Destin shrugged. "I heard something in the Thousand Year Grasslands, and when I went to see what it was, he was all alone out there, and he was dehydrated. I've been taking care of him without Father knowing, and then I thought maybe you'd like something to play with and take care of; he's cute and all, but with me leaving as soon as possible, I thought he might like staying near his home."  
Fabala's eyes lit up, and she picked the cat up, hugging it. She turned towards the door, looking at Aran. "What do you think?"  
Aran shrugged; surprised that he was even being let into the conversation at all. "It's cute enough, but does it do anything?"  
Destin turned, nodding. "Oh yes, it eats, sleeps, occasionally makes a mess if not properly trained, and petting it is a great stress reliever." Aran scowled, before walking over and sitting behind Fabala.  
"If you want it, Fae, there may never be another time for you to get a kitten."  
"But is it a cat or a Cat?" Fabala asked herself quietly. Destin shrugged, going into his elder ergo smarter routine.  
"Well, I'd say it's a cat, just by the way it acts; however, even if it were a Cat, it's preverbal, and so it's anyone's guess, as you can't tell an animal from an Animal at such an early stage."  
Aran rolled his eyes, before petting the cat lightly. He smiled as he did so; the fur was just too soft.  
"I think I'll name him Yero, after my father." She said, nodding.  
Destin smiled, although to Aran it looked more devious than it was. He did like the cat, though.  
Fabala got up, starting away from the two boys.  
"You know, she really deserves someone who treats her like a girl should be treated." Destin said conversationally, looking Aran up and down.  
The Quadling bit the inside of his cheek to keep from making any unnecessary comments. "So being treated like a girl means getting her presents and placing her on an unwanted pedestal?" He hissed out.  
Destin quirked an eyebrow, before shrugging. "That pedestal didn't look too unwanted to me." He commented dryly, following Fabala out the door.  
Aran hissed, looking down at his hands. He had balled his hands into fists hard, and had drawn his own blood.The long shoots of dead pieces of grass cracked as Aran pushed them roughly aside. "Look at me; I'm Destin, the next in the line of pompous Gillikin lords. I just happened to have found a cat, but I'm not sure if it's a Cat or a cat, since it's preverbal. I'm so smart because I'm so much older and no one care that I'm Lurline-damned annoying because they all grovel at my feet!"  
"I wasn't groveling at his feet; it was a nice gesture, and he's cute." Fabala said angrily, following Aran.  
Aran whirled around quickly, glaring at Fabala. "He's cute?!" he yelled.  
Fabala's lips pursed together and her hands went to her hips. "I meant the cat, Aran." She said in a monotone.  
Aran turned his back on her, making his way to the lone tree in the center of the Thousand Year Grasslands. "Of course you did." He said, though the sarcasm was dripping from his voice.  
Fabala huffed, before following after him. She sat down rather hard in the dirt under the tree, not caring if her sage skirt was getting ruined. She wrapped one arm around her knees, and with the other, she started outlining the diamonds on her arms.  
"I don't understand why you hate Destin so much." She said quietly.  
Aran leaned against the hard bark of the tree, touching the long scar on his face. "He's Gillikinese, isn't that enough reason?"  
Fabala didn't make eye contact with him, just played with the patterns on her arm. "Just because he's Gillikinese doesn't make him a monster, you know." She said, before something occurred to her. She blushed. "Um, last year, when we played that stupid game, why didn't you stop me from making fun of Lurline if you're a Lurlinist?"  
Aran shrugged. "Everyone's entitled to their own opinions." He said.  
Fabala scowled. "You're just saying that because it justifies your prejudice against Destin." Aran just looked off in the distance towards the Scrow encampment. "You know, there's no way of telling those Gale Forcers were Gillikinese; for all we know, they could have been Quadlings too. And if they were, would you hate yourself because of it?"  
Aran sighed. "You don't understand..."  
Fabala held up a hand, looking away from Aran. "I understand perfectly well; you're hurt and upset because they took away your past and your home. But think about me, Aran, I'm now lame in one leg and my brother's dead."  
"I know, Fae, but..."  
"No, don't call me that!" Fabala jumped up, tears in her eyes. She winced as they started to fall, but she didn't move to wipe them away. Aran reached out, but she pulled away, nearly tripping on a root. "Really, Aran, you're acting like a protective brother; I don't need to be protected, I can take care of myself."  
Aran gulped around the lump forming in his throat. "Is...is that all I am to you? An annoying brother?"  
Fabala licked her lips, before biting her upper one. "Yes, Aran, at the moment, that's exactly what you are and I wish you'd leave me alone." She finally wiped the tears away, but they had already left angry streaks on her face. "Please." She whispered, before turning and starting back toward Kiamo Ko.  
Aran sagged next to the tree, wrapping his arms around himself. For the past year, he had hoped in vain that Fabala could think of him as more than a friend. In the past year, they had become close, but now Fabala was moving towards Destin, and it made Aran feel cold inside and out.The multicolored bubble arrived earlier than anyone had expected, and all of Kiamo Ko and Red Windmill could hear Elphaba's curses as she tried to make her presence in the castle unknown.  
"Really," said Mellesse as she made some tea, "I don't know why that woman tries to hide herself, she can't stay locked in that room forever." Aran nodded numbly. Even if Destin and Lord Bromley were leaving that day, Fabala still wasn't talking to him, and to make matters worse, the Scarecrow had started in on him about Arjiki traditions and what Fabala was missing because she had already received her tattoos. Aran really didn't understand how the Scarecrow knew all of the idiosyncrasies of the Winkie clans.  
Mellesse sighed, looking over at Aran. "What's wrong with you, Master Aran?"  
"Nothing." Said Aran half-heartedly. He had had this conversation with both Mellesse and Pfen before. He had been haunting the kitchen since his fight with Fabala, and he wasn't ready to leave just yet.  
Mellesse sighed, before handing the tea tray to Aran. He blinked at it, surprised, before Mellesse shooed him out of the kitchen. "If you're not going to make yourself useful in here, Aran, then please go take this to Miss Glinda in the drawing room."  
Aran nodded, picking up the tray delicately and walked into the drawing room.  
"Oh, are you a servant? You don't look like a Winkie." said a pretty voice behind him. He turned as he entered, and the blonde woman gasped lightly at the long scar adorning his face.  
"I'm not a servant, and I'm not a Winkie," Aran said, putting the tray down on a low table in front of the woman. When Lord Bromley glared at him, her cleared his throat. "Miss." He added, with a low bow.  
Glinda shook her head, still staring at the scar. "Oh, but how'd you get that, Master Quadling?"  
Aran blushed, looking away. "It's nothing. Don't worry, Miss Glinda." He said.  
She frowned, shaking her head. "No, it's something all right. And why should a Quadling be in the Vinkus?"  
"His name is Aran, of the Naeva clan." Lord Bromley said, his distaste for Aran evident in his voice.  
At once, the confusion and questioning in Glinda's eyes fell away, leaving an emotion Aran knew only too well; grief, total and sincere, especially when it came from Her Goodness. "Oh, I'm so sorry, Aran." She said quietly. Aran looked at her quizzically. "I remember hearing stories about the Gale Force taking a boy in Ovvels and killing his family, but I never thought...I never knew, but if I had, I would have done something." She got up then, and started towards the door between the hall and the small room they were in. "I'd like to see the lady of the house."  
Aran backed away, into the door. He was a good head taller than Glinda, although he felt rather small as he leaned against the door, blocking her escape. "Um, no, I'm sorry, but the lady of the house isn't here right now."  
Glinda frowned, before sitting down again. "Fine, then. I'm not leaving until I can talk with the lady of the house about the Gale Force's cruelties and how they came upon you and what I can do to help."  
"But Glinda, dear..." Lord Bromley started, leaning in next to Glinda and putting a hand on her shoulder.  
Glinda pulled away from his grasp, frowning. "No. I am not leaving until I know what I can do to change this terrible crime."  
Lord Bromley sighed in defeat, looking down at the floor. "Glinda, I think your request is in vain."  
The small woman merely held her dignified look, and he shook his head. "I've...met her. You don't want to meet her, Glinda, please, let's just go home. You have to get back to Nissa."  
Glinda shook her head, her blonde curls bouncing. "I am not leaving, Bromley, until I know!" She said determinedly.  
Aran slipped out the door and let out a long, barely audible sigh as he closed his eyes. He was hoping Bromley and his son were leaving; he wished it had been true. Now Glinda, for all her Goodness, was making his life worse-off than it had been during his time with the Gale Force. 


	4. Part Four

Title: Entertaining Destiny

Author: Aerohead

Email: capricornangel at yahoo

Website: In my profile!

Pairing: Elphaba/Fiyero, Glinda/Fiyero, Glinda/OC, OC/OC

Rating: PG – PG13

Disclaimer/Dedication: L. Frank Baum, Gregory Maguire, Winnie Holtzman, and Stephen Schwartz for giving Wicked the life I'm now leeching off of. Also for Tori, who made Destin.

Warning: Spoilers for the end of the play, also, it's an amalgamation of the book and play.

Genre: Romance, adventure

Summary: The Vinkus is being used as a way for Quadlings to be taken to the Gillikin emerald mines. When a Quadling boy helps her daughter, Elphaba decides to stop the Gale Force from using Kumbricia's Pass as a way to smuggle people.

Author's Notes: Still not beta'd. If anyone would like to beta this, I'd be more than happy to let them, all you have to do is tell me or email me. Also, thanks to everyone who reviewed; if you have any ideas for the story-line that you think I should incoporate, the time to review and tell me is now, as there are really only two more parts to this story (unless I do the Shiz story, which is when my RPG takes place.)

Part Four

"C'mon, Fabia, get up!" Yero was picked up. The now rather large cat made a small sound of discontent, before he was put down next to Fabala's head. He purred, before licking the girl's cheek.

"MMphr. Mo-om!" groaned Fabala, rolling over. Elphaba sighed, before opening the curtains on the East Window.

"Up, now! It's your fourteenth birthday, and I'm not letting you sleep through the whole of it, even if I may not leave this room with Glinda still here." She made a face that Fabala caught as she opened her eyes.

"If you don't want her here, you could just have Mellesse say she's the woman of the house and then have her tell Glinda everything you want to tell her." The girl sat up, picking up her cat and putting it into her lap. Yero purred, curling up into a ball the size of Fabala's lap.

Elphaba shook her head, sitting down on Fabala's bed and stroking the cat. "Although Mellesse is a very good cook and a wonderful person, she says everything verbatim. She'll sound exactly like me!"

Fabala laughed. "You've never saw that as a bad thing before."

The girl got up and started down the stairs, aware of the growl of Yero as he was unceremoniously dumped off her lap. "Sorry, Yero." She called over her shoulder. The cat was already hopping off the bed to follow her and Elphaba watched.

"Fourteen already..." She said to herself wistfully. "Has it really been fourteen years since Nessa's death?" She shook her head, before following Fabala out of the room. Instead of going down to the breakfast table, however, she went to her room.

The breakfast table was a quiet place. With Lord Bromley and Destin still stuck in Red Windmill – along with a still very forceful good witch – the main servants had taken to eating by themselves in a small room off to the side, while Elphaba had taken to not coming out of her own room for more than five minutes if she knew Glinda was still in the vicinity. Fabala sighed as she took a seat across from the Scarecrow, where Elphaba usually sat, brushing a strand of loose thread from her skirt idly.

"Well, happy birthday to you, Miss Fabala!" Destin said, smiling at her. She smiled back, though she could feel how fake it was.

"Thank you, Destin." She said quietly.

Lord Bromley held up his water goblet, clearing his throat authoritatively. "Yes, yes, this is a day to celebrate, isn't it? Not only is it Fabala's fourteenth birthday, but it's also the day my son gets his acceptance to Shiz!" Fabala looked up, and Destin blushed slightly.

"Well that's very...good, isn't it?" Glinda said, tipping her glass in the direction of the teenagers.

"How very luck-filled." Said the Scarecrow, sending a surreptitious grimace Fabala's way. She dipped her head, hiding her smile, as she raised a glass of juice.

"Congratulations, Destin." She said quietly. He smiled meekly at her, before snapping.

Lord Bromley glared at his son for his improper mannerisms at the table, but Destin ignored it; instead taking something out of his pants' pocket. "This is for you, for your birthday." Destin said. Fabala took the silk-wrapped present, sending Destin a curious look, before she opened it. Inside the fabric was a silver and jade bracelet. "Do you like it?" He asked, worriedly. "It was my mother's and I thought you'd look pretty with it; the jade offsets the diamonds, don't you think?"

Fabala put the bracelet on, admiring it. It was true; the tattoos on her arms didn't stand out as much when they were next to the jade baubles. "It's really pretty; Destin, but I don't deserve this."

"Nonsense, you're the daughter of the two people who own this castle, Faeba, you deserve everything a princess deserves." The Scarecrow frowned at her, leaning on his straw arms.

Fabala laughed. "You sound just like my father, you know that?" She teased. He shrugged, a small mirth filled smile pulling at the edges of his mouth.

Glinda looked rather lost in her own thoughts, and Lord Bromley looked over at her. "Glinda, are you all right?" He asked, putting a hand over hers. She turned to him, smiling.

"Oh, yes, I'm fine. I was just thinking that's all..." she looked quizzically over towards The Scarecrow, who was having a rather terrible coughing fit. "It was Nissa's birthday a few days ago, and I didn't send her anything. I wasn't thinking about the days." Fabala's head jerked up at the mention of the name 'Nissa'.

"Who's Nissa?" she asked. Glinda looked over at her, smiling and waving a hand.

"Oh, she's just my daughter. She's a week or two older than you; she's a handful, but she's a sweetheart." Lord Bromley squeezed Glinda's hand, before removing his own.

"Our children truly are growing up, aren't they, Glinda dear?"

The Scarecrow pushed away from the table, smiling lightly at Glinda and Bromley. "Will you excuse me? I'm going to check on the Mistress of the house." He nodded before departing. Fabala glared after him; he was the adult and running away from the situation and now she was stuck with Bromley ranting about Destin for the rest of breakfast.

Glinda watched the Scarecrow go, a bemused expression on her face. "He's always been odd, hasn't he?" She asked.

"Uh, yes?" said Fabala.

Glinda turned to the girl, her expression soft. "Now dear, please, can you tell me what's wrong with your mother?" Fabala looked down at her plate, a conjured look of childish upset written on her face. Destin and Bromley knew she was acting, and badly, but it seemed to pass right over Glinda's head.

"Well, she has a chronic illness, miss, which comes and goes. They think it's because she saw what happened here before I was born and she's never been healthy since." She let out a small, wistful sigh for effect, before looking over at Glinda, wiping away faux tears from her eyes. "If you'll excuse me, I think I need some fresh air." She said.

Glinda smiled genuinely at her. "Oh, yes, of course dear." She nodded and Fabala hugged her stiffly, before starting out the servant's entrance. "And happy birthday, dear!" she called.

Glinda turned to Bromley as Fabala left, an eyebrow raised. "Have you met the Mistress of the house, Bromley?"

Bromley cleared his throat. "Eh, met her? How do you mean? She used to take dinner with us, but not often, and when she did, she came with the servants, so I don't know exactly who the Mistress of the house is..."

Glinda got up, shaking her head. "You're a terrible liar." She said simply. Lord Bromley turned beet red, before sighing.

"I don't want you to get hurt, Glinda."

"The girl's name is Fabala; unless there's a lone unionist out here, I think I know who's daughter that is. I'm not stupid, even if I am blonde." She moved away from the table and started to the guest room she and Bromley were sharing. Bromley winced when he heard the door slam behind her.

"Remember this, Destin; an angry witch, whether she is good or wicked, is still someone you should watch out for."

Fabala looked around her, enchanted by the place where she stood. For the first time since she was about seven, she had walked down to the Vinkus River. In the June sun, it was sparkling like a sapphire, and she was enchanted by it. When she was five, she had fallen into the water, and it hurt more than anything, but it was still amazing to look at; it had become a nice place for her to just go to and think. But the last time she had gone was with The Scarecrow and Thane, and up until now, she couldn't go for fear of thoughts of her brother.

She looked at the crystalline depths, at her reflection. She looked like she had when she was a child; hair braided, blue eyes large and so out of place on a Winkie, and skin darker than most Winkies she had ever seen. The fat that came with being a child was gone, though, and her face was more angled, much like her mother's – pointy and slightly hawk-like. She wasn't sure what her father looked like, but she knew from The Scarecrow that he had her blue eyes, and now with her more mature figure they made her look slightly exotic, though not beautiful. She sighed; she didn't think beauty was important, but she wanted some justification for the gift Destin had given her, and so far she wasn't receiving any enlightened ideas from her reflection.

"What's so interesting down there that you just have to look at? Did someone loose some precious jewel and you want it, but can't touch it?" Fabala's head jerked up, and she blushed as the person who had spoken sat down beside her. "Sometimes, you know, I feel like you're that precious jewel; beautiful, but I'm allergic to your casing and can't get to you. Happy birthday, by the way."

"You're such a romantic." Fabala laughed, happy to be having a normal conversation like this for the first time since last year.

Aran shrugged, knotting the line on his fishing pole. "Hey, I try." He turned to her, brown eyes cautiously void of emotion. "So, how's everything up in the large, foreboding castle?"

She leaned back. "I couldn't be happier." She said, sarcastically. "And I think Glinda's on to Mother; how could she not? Anyone with a brain larger than a catfish would figure it out!"

Aran looked at her, and she could see the comment he wanted to make, but he turned away, shaking his head instead. "So, how was breakfast?" He asked instead, casting the line out into the river.

"Don't tell Mellesse, but I didn't eat any; they just kept talking and talking and it was making my head hurt." She rubbed her temples to prove her point. Aran chuckled lightly, but he was concentrating on his fishing line mostly. Once he was sure nothing was going to take his bait for a little while anyway, he got up.

"Come with me." He said. Fabala looked up at him, confused. He put out one calloused hand and she took it gently. He smiled and helped her up, before pulling her along. Since they hadn't been on very good speaking terms for the past year, she hadn't noticed that he had grown; where he used to be shorter than her, he was now about an inch or two taller. She cocked her head as she looked at the back of his; the skin she could see was permanently sun burnt and covered by wisps of nearly brown hair.

In her musings, she nearly hit her face with a large dead branch along the river; they were nearly in Yunamata territory by this point, and she was getting nervous. Aran turned to her, smiling at her. She looked at the still visible scar across his jaw, and laughed. She didn't know how she could stay mad at him for so long, since he really was like her brother.

He pulled her into a small cave and lit a candle. Her breath hitched as she looked around. "This' amazing!" said Fabala quietly, listening to her voice echo. It looked like a small room, decked on from head to toe in Lurlinemas colors on the wall. "What is this place?"

Aran pointed to the old Ozian writing on the wall. "I couldn't figure out all of it but I borrowed some of your mother's books," at Fabala's glare Aran put a hand up, "_with her permission_, and I've found out that this is actually a place where people in the Vinkus came to worship Lurline when the Unionists came to try and convert them."

Fabala sat on her knees, putting her hands on the cave floor. It was cold, but dry. Her brows knit in confusion. "Why isn't it wet?" She asked.

Aran's smile grew. "The stones in the cave keep moisture out; I don't know, it may be Kumbric magick or the magic your mother works, or it could even be some freak accident of nature that Lurline granted us with and the Unnamed One has usurped from her. But, Faeba, look at this! It never gets wet in here; it's as dry as a bone even during torrential downpours! There's an opening to get here big enough for you and me to stand in near Red Windmill; near the end of the Great Kells." He turned to her, moving closer to her in his excitement. "And the best part is that it's spelled, so no one but you or I or whoever we want can come in here!"

Fabala smiled at his enthusiasm, leaning closer. She touched his hand to make him look directly at her. "Aran, please," she said, her tone mock-indignant. "How many times have I told you, call me Fae?"

He blinked at her. "You...you've never told me to call you that; actually I remember you getting pretty upset the last time I did."

Fabala closed her eyes, laughing. "Well then, now I'm telling you. Fae." She smiled at him and the leaned in closer, but suddenly Fabala jumped up. "Sweet Oz, we've got to get back!"

Aran made a face. "Why?"

"Because Destin's leaving today!" she said, starting out of the cave and toward Kiamo Ko.

Aran's brown eyes brightened. "Leaving? Really! Oh, thank you, Lurline, my prayers are answered!" He laughed, following her.

Glinda did not see her future step-son off to Shiz; however she did wish she could have. Instead, she was standing in front of a large oak door, listening to the ensuing fight on the other side.

"NO!" was the only distinct word she heard, and she winced. She should have realized that her presence would not be welcomed here, but something in the back of her mind itched; she had to know if Elphaba really was alive, or if somehow her imagination and hope had created this delusion of Elphaba really being alive. "Fiyero, I am not going to see her!"  
Glinda's heart stopped. Fiyero? She hadn't heard that name in nearly fourteen years. She had truly become close to Lord Bromley when she had heard Fiyero and Elphaba were dead; Lord Bromley's wife Damisi had passed away almost two years previous and helped her adjust.

She had to grab hold of a nearby candle holder on the wall to steady herself at the shock that the two people who mattered most in her life really weren't dead. It was her favorite dream coming true, or her worst nightmare becoming reality.

The door behind her opened and she jumped, grabbing the candle in her hurry to look regal. The Scarecrow jumped back into the room, away from the fire. "Oh! I'm sorry!" Glinda said, putting the candle back and holding up her hands, backing away from The Scarecrow. "I didn't mean to frighten you or eavesdrop it's just...Oh, but what have you got to say that's more important than my ramblings?" She asked.

The Scarecrow looked down, slightly embarrassed. "I'm sorry, Glinda, but her exact words were that she won't come out until you leave; she doesn't want to endanger you."

Glinda harrumphed, wrapping her arms around her chest. "Well, then we're at an impasse, as I am not leaving until I see her to talk about what happened to that poor Quadling boy she's harboring." She tried to peek into the room, but The Scarecrow stopped her. She pursed her lips and called into the room, "Did you hear me, Elphie? I know you're there and I'm not leaving here until you come out, no matter how long it takes!" She thought of something and smirked to herself. "And Bromley's not leaving either until you come out! So it seems you're stuck between a rock and a hard-place, but I'll let you think about it!" She straightened and walked purposefully down to the kitchen, ready for dinner.


	5. Part Five

Title: Entertaining Destiny  
  
Author: Aerohead  
  
Email: in my profile  
  
Website: In my profile  
  
Pairing: Fiyero/Elphaba, Fiyero/Glinda, Glinda/OC, OC/OC  
  
Rating: PG13  
  
Disclaimer/Dedication: For L. Frank Baum, Gregory Maguire, Stephen Schwartz, and Winnie Holtzman who own this idea that I'm extending. Thank you for giving me the first part. Also, Destin belongs to Tori. Also, F-kun owns the Melarose family.

Warning: spoiler for the ending of the musical Wicked, but that's pretty much about it.  
  
Genre: Romance, adventure (book/play amalgamation)  
  
Summary: The Vinkus is being used as a way for Quadlings to be taken to the Gillikin emerald mines. When a Quadling boy helps her daughter, Elphaba decides to stop the Gale Force from using Kumbricia's Pass as a way to smuggle people.  
  
Author's Notes: Still not beta'd. Anyway, also, sorry this wasn't posted sooner; I went back to NYC this week to see _Wicked_ again, along with _The Frogs_. Also, I know some people have been having trouble figuring out what months these chapters take place in, so here's a quick list (note that the story takes place almost always during late spring/early summer): Part One: mid-May, Part Two: early Man, Part Three: August, Part Four: Early June, Part Five: early July. Also, someone emailed me (I forget who now. ') about the age difference between Fabala, Aran, and Destin. Destin is two years older than Aran and Fabala, and Aran is two months older than Fabala. Finally, this is the second-to-last part of this story, but if you want me to continue with a sequel based on the RPG it is about, please leave me a comment telling me so, otherwise I won't. 

Part Five

It was mostly quiet now that Destin was gone. Although Shiz was out for the summer, the boy had gone to Neverdale to visit his step-sister-to-be. Lord Bromley and Glinda the Good were still being housed in Kiamo Ko, and Elphaba had still yet to see her best friend. Of course, there were pleasantries – every morning between breakfast and lunch, Glinda would go to Elphaba's room and demand entrance, while Elphaba resolutely refused. Glinda had even gone so far as to sending for items at the Palace in the Emerald City that used to belong to the other woman.

Fabala and Aran had found that hiding from the tension at the house was by far easier said than done. Escaping to the cave was proving to be harder for Fabala than it was for Aran, so he usually went while she was stuck listening quietly while her parents raged all-out, no-place-is-sacred war with each other about the blonde woman who had by now all but taken up residence in the Vinkus.

Fabala, now a month after her fifteenth birthday, was sitting in her room. Her right leg was pulled into her, but her left leg had become stubborn in the sticky weather and had decided not to bend, so it was splayed out on the mattress in front of her. In her lap she held a large tome. It had been given to Elphaba by Glinda, and instead of keeping it, Elphaba had stiffly asked Fabala if she wanted it. The ancient lettering on the leather cover was nearly rubbed off by age and use, but she could faintly make out the "Gr" and the "ie", at the beginning and end of the word respectively.

Although the writing in the book was strange and sometimes impossible to understand, some of it was easy to decipher. Her mother had promised to teach her the harder words, but Fabala was resilient and wanted to learn some of it by herself.

Of course, at the moment reading the stupid thing was giving her a migraine that was about the same size as it, so with an annoyed sigh she slammed the book shut and eased herself off the bed. It was hard, it really was, to move when her leg was giving her so much trouble, but she had become accustomed to it. She only winced lightly as it buckled underneath her weight as she experimented with it. Satisfied that it was holding, she started down the stairs and into the kitchen.

It was abnormally quiet in the large cooking area. Mellesse and the cooking staff had gone into town to buy necessities for that night's dinner, and Aran, the only other normal occupant for the room, had left early that morning to go to the Scrow and haggle for some of the herbs they had.

With a sigh, Fabala took the kitchen in fully; making sure Bromley, The Scarecrow, Glinda, or – worse – her mother was in there. She smiled to herself and pulled a chair toward the small island between dining area and preparing area. She sat down and put her left leg onto the wall of the island. She twisted it, careful only to move the upper portion of her leg, using her right leg as support as she held it fast on the floor. With a loud pop, her knee decided to finally work. She stood, smiling to herself as the pain lessened; Pfen would have killed her twenty times over, but it was the only relief from the pain she could get in this weather.

Leaving the chair out, she started into the cooking space. She looked around the immaculate area, impressed, as she went toward the back of the room. She was looking for something to eat, an apple perhaps, and as she looked around, she trailed her hand on the counter.

She stopped as she let her hand rove. It had moved onto something colder than the stone surface; something cold and wet. She kept her hand in the water for far too long, and suddenly the coldness of the water mixed with the pain on her skin, and she let out a small, hopeless cry. She pulled her hand away from the countertop, and looked at her wet palm. She looked around frantically, but there was nothing for her to wipe it off with.

"Fabala!" someone called near the back of the house; she was only faintly aware of it. Her vision swam and her mind raced as she looked at her hand, watching the dark flesh go red. Wiping it on her shirt or skirt would only prove to be harmful to her legs or arms, as the cotton was too thin to keep the moisture out. She started thinking to the ground, panicking, and ignored the quick succession of snapping noises her knee made as she did.

She closed her eyes, trying to get her vision back. She could hear footsteps – urgent and sure – coming closer to her, but she couldn't make out the voices, or what they were saying.

"Faeba, come on, look at me, focus!" She opened one eye, and then another. Two pairs of equally worried eyes stared back at her.

"What's wrong?" asked one of the people next her, moving out of Fabala's vision.

"It's the water." Came the curt reply, as the face closest to her moved its focus to other. Soon the focus was back on Fabala, and nearly black eyes, tinged with uncharacteristic worry, looked at Fabala. "Give me your hand."

Tentatively, the fifteen-year-old did as she was told, making another noise of pain in the back of her throat as the hand was taken between pieces of dark cloth on either side. The moisture was rubbed off, and the pain ebbed slightly. "You should get up." The person in front of her stated.

"I'll get the chair!" came the swift, if not choked, reply of the other person occupying the space with Fabala. Distantly, she heard the scrape of oak on cobblestone, signaling that the chair was being brought into the cooking area.

Arms moved around Fabala, and she vaguely registered that the dark cloth that had wiped off the water from her hand was part of an article of clothing. A strong body started to lift Fabala up, but the moment her legs started to straighten, she let out a yelp.

"Are you okay?" Almost instantly, the second person was next to her, blue eyes shining with worry at the state of the young girl.

"My leg..." Fabala barely managed out, putting all of her weight on the body holding her up. She felt the head that belonged to the body nod in understanding, and then she felt the attention drift away from her.

"Can you help me get her to the chair?" Fabala pulled closer to the familiar body at the question, but an off-colored hand swam into her vision and out, touching the side of her face lightly to soothe.

"You want...? Of course, of course I will!" There was surprise in the voice, and a nervous touch on Fabala's shoulder. She shied away from the touch, looking up into the face above her, one that was doing it's best to stay out of focus.

The face looked down at her, however, and a small wan smile was the only thing Fabala could make out. "Let Glinda help you, I can't get you there by yourself when you can't hold your own weight." The Good Witch touched the girl's arm again, and this time she sunk into the touch. The small woman wrapped one arm around her shoulder and looked beyond the hurt girl to the tall woman on the other side.

The two women gently put Fabala down, and the girl paled lightly, realizing that her knee wouldn't go back. She turned slowly, seeing the wall.

"Could you, um, put me near the wall?" She asked meekly, blushing.

A small consoling smile passed across Glinda's features as she looked beyond the youth to Elphaba. The green woman nodded once, and it was all the incentive the other woman needed. She bent down so that she was in the girl's line of vision, and smiled.

"Of course, dear." She said, before helping the girl up again. Fabala struggled toward her mother, and collapsed into the strong woman's open arms. The arms closed around her tightly in a protectiveness that would have surprised anyone who believed in the propaganda about the Witch of the West, and Fabala relaxed slightly, although the pain shooting up from her knee was nearly blinding.

Glinda picked up the heavy chair as best she could and sent a quizzical look toward the dark girl. "Put it where you found it before." She said. "Please?" She added, catching the quick glance from her mother.

With a nod and a smile, the chair was brought back to where it had been placed before Fabala had decided to traipse around the kitchen. Once it was placed, Glinda came back over to Fabala's side. She put a hand out, and the teen gratefully leaned onto the blonde woman for support. They brought her to the chair and she sat down in it heavily. She took a deep, fortifying breath, before putting her left leg back onto the island wall and twisted her leg. The noise her knee made echoed through the deadly quiet room as Glinda and Elphaba stared at each other. Fabala passed out from the mixed pain in her hand and leg.

The Scrow encampment was a good hike from Kiamo Ko. Aran had gone there many times; but today it was unusually quiet.

"What's going on?" He asked, looking at the herb seller. She smiled weakly at him, before looking down.

"A young boy drowned in the River this afternoon." Aran looked at the upset woman, and nodded. "That's the boy's brother over there; I feel so bad for that family." She sniffed.

Aran nodded, understanding the woman as his mind drifted to his arrival in the Vinkus, and the dead, surprised look on Thane's face after he was shot and killed. He also remembered quite vividly Fabala crying on her mother's shoulder one night with The Scarecrow watching when Aran shouldn't have been watching. "I'm truly sorry for their loss." He said sincerely.

The woman nodded, handing him a small bag of herbs. She turned from the sadness and sent Aran a lecherous smile. "So, what's a handsome young man doing collecting herbs like these?"

Aran blushed, looking at the brown paper bag between them. "How do you mean, ma'am?"

She clucked. "Caraway, dragon's blood, lily of the valley, holly, pomegranate, sage, and walnut, child, these are supposed to have properties good for women." She said with a wink.

Aran turned another shade of red. "They're for a friend of mine."

"A female friend?" the woman asked, her smile widening when she saw him nod. "And does this friend know you're buying these herbs for her?"

Aran shook his head. "But it's a surprise for her; she's been working hard lately, and I think she deserves something for herself." He said. She blinked at him, before smiling.

"That Arjiki princess, am I right? The last of the Tigalaar line, the daughter of You-Know-Who herself!" Aran coughed to hide his discomfort as he nodded again. She tutted. "You take heed of my words boy; she's as stubborn as her mother is and she can become as arrogant as her father was."

"Was?" Aran said meekly.

"Well no one's seen him since before she was born, have they? I hear he was Captain of the Gale Force, and was killed for protecting the Wicked Witch Who Wasn't So Wicked."

"Um, yes...er, I need some more herbs; you didn't name them before..."

The woman looked at him. "What is it, poppet?"  
"Um...thyme, cherry, lemon, violet, fennel, and sunflower, please." He said, gulping around the ball in his throat. She smiled kindly at him, nodding. Once he had the second bag and had paid for them, he started back down the roads toward Red Windmill. He chanced a glance at the boy whose brother had died; the boy sat next to a grieving woman and a man who stood to the side, almost as if he wasn't even there at all. The boy looked to be about Aran's own age, and he let out a small sigh. He couldn't remember his family, Fabala had lost her brother and apparently her father, and now another boy had lost someone he love. How many more people had to suffer before Oz and the Vinkus were finally allied?

Fabala groaned as she came to. She looked around the kitchen, but couldn't see anyone. She could hear voices, but they were in the sitting room across the antechamber, and she didn't feel particularly up to going over there and seeing who was there.

It still shocked her; Glinda and her mother had come to help her, together. And they had spoken nearly civilly. Fabala shook her head, and it proved to be a bad idea. "Aw hellfire!" she groaned, feeling her braid; it was a mess, but she wasn't in the mood to fix it.

"What help with that?" someone asked from behind her. There was a rustle of straw, and The Scarecrow moved into arms' length of the girl. He smiled warmly at her, and some of her disquiet eased as she pulled him into a hug. "Are you okay, Faeba?" he asked her, worried.

"Yes, thank you." She kissed his burlap face, not wanting to let go. She sometimes wished she had a normal family, but she loved The Scarecrow and Elphaba more because they had gone through so many hardships to have her. It was that thought that was with her as she pulled away from The Scarecrow. "If it wasn't for Mother and Glinda, I think I would have been badly hurt."

The Scarecrow nodded, before moving behind Fabala and redoing her braid for her. "You make a father proud to call you their daughter." He said quietly, hugging her from behind. He moved away, and Fabala turned to him in question. "I have to go make sure your mother doesn't kill Glinda."

Fabala nodded and watched him go, before she experimented with getting up. When it worked with little to no pain, she started walking around. Her leg was fine, so she checked her hand. It was fine, but she was wary of touching anything in the room. She started to leave the room, and trudged up the stairs to her room, where she had left the book her mother had given her.

"I'm glad I caught you!" Fabala turned to Glinda, who was running up the stairs – and tripping on her orange crème skirt – to catch the girl. "How's your hand?"  
Fabala smiled. "It's fine, thank you." Glinda nodded.

"Could we, um...go to your room?"

"Oh, yes, of course!" Fabala smiled and brought Glinda up to her room. The Witch looked over the sparse room, before her eyes landed on the pretty bed. Fabala scrambled to the bed and picked up the book her mother had given her. She went to put it on her lap, but Yero jumped out of his cat-bed and demanded attention. Glinda sat down gingerly on the bed and picked the cat up, putting it in her lap.

"What a cute cat!"

"Thank you, Destin gave him to me, along with this..." She pulled out a small box of keepsakes, and picked up the bracelet she had gotten the year before.

"That's very pretty..." Glinda said, slightly nervous as to how to react to her best friend's daughter. She noticed, however, that there was a small piece of black cloth in the box, but didn't pester the girl; it looked to be a piece of the black hat that Glinda had given Elphaba. Then her eyes caught the book, and she laughed, making Yero jump in surprise and skid away.

"What's funny?" Fabala asked. Glinda shook her head.

"It's nothing, it's just...that book, I remember when your mother first took it. It seems fitting that you would take it." She touched Fabala's cheek gently. "I just wanted to talk to you about Shiz..."

Fabala looked over at Glinda, confused.

"I'm going to be sending my daughter there the same year you go, and there's something you should know, that you should both know...you're father and hers are the same."

Fabala nodded. "I know."

Glinda was flabbergasted. "How did you...?"

Fabala smiled. "My birthday, last year, when you started talking about your daughter, my fa...The Scarecrow, he started acting funny. And you said she was older than me by a week. According to the stories, Father and Mother were first truly together after you and Father broke off your engagement, a week afterwards."

Glinda smiled, pleasantly surprised. "You're truly your mother's child." She said.

"I try." Fabala laughed.

Glinda coughed, bringing back a slight seriousness to the situation. "I'd like you to take care of Nissa, I've tried my best, but it's hard raising a child and a country, too. She's rather..."

"Spoilt?" Fabala asked. Glinda nodded. Fabala smiled. "I'll try to take care of her, Your Goodness, but I'm not good with new people. According to Aran I'm crass and rather bratty. I admit I am normally – bratty, that is – but I'm just not good in new situations." She shrugged. "But I will try."

Glinda smiled. "Good, I'm glad." She got and started away, but turned, a thought turning in her head. "I'm leaving tonight; your mother and I have worked a few things out. I'll be back sometime next year with Nissa." Fabala opened her mouth, but Glinda put up a hand. "And of course, Bromley's leaving with me." Fabala nodded. "But I'd like you to have this, just don't tell your mother." She pulled something out of her voluminous skirts. She put a brown-wrapped thing in Fabala's hands and waved as she opened the East Window and stepped onto the very small ledge. She waved her wand and her bubble appeared. She smiled at Fabala as she started to drift away. "I promise, next year you'll meet Nissa. I'm warning you now!" She called waving. "And please don't let your mother know I gave that to you!" Fabala ran to the window and watched the bubble disappear. She closed the windows and latched them, and went back to the bed and the forgotten present. Shaking, she opened the brown wrap and picked up the object inside of it, letting the wrapping fall to the ground as she stood to admire the object in the light of the setting sun.

It was a little green bottle with the words "Miracle Elixir" on the side.


	6. Part Six

Title: Entertaining Destiny  
  
Author: Aerohead  
  
Email: In my profile

Website: In my profilePairing: Fiyero/Elphaba, Fiyero/Glinda, Glinda/OC, OC/OC  
  
Rating: PG13  
  
Disclaimer/Dedication: For L. Frank Baum, Gregory Maguire, Stephen Schwartz, and Winnie Holtzman who own this idea that I'm extending. Thank you for giving me the first part.  
  
Warning: spoiler for the ending of the musical Wicked, but that's pretty much about it.  
  
Genre: Romance, adventure (book/play amalgamation)  
  
Summary: The Vinkus is being used as a way for Quadlings to be taken to the Gillikin emerald mines. When a Quadling boy helps her daughter, Elphaba decides to stop the Gale Force from using Kumbricia's Pass as a way to smuggle people.  
  
Author's Notes: Still not beta'd. This is the last part until One if by Land, Two if by Sky. There will be a short epilogue posted after this, to set up for the events in the sequel. I'm just warning you, it might take a while for the sequel to get up, for two reasons; it's based off of an RPG, and also I'm working on an original story. I actually meant to start that tonight, but this story's been on my mind.

Part Six

Rain pelted angrily on the East Window. Fabala pulled the comforter over her head and pulled herself into a knot underneath it. It wasn't particularly cold, but the hollow sound of the hard liquid hitting the glass panes made her nervous. It had already woken her up twice, and she had checked them each time to make sure there would be no repeats of what happened when she was eleven.

The rain had been falling this way for about two days or so. And there was no hope in it letting up any time soon.

Water. Fabala opened her eyes and cautiously undid her cocoon of blankets. Why did she have to be allergic to water? Was it some twisted joke of some god, a curse on her for not believing in him or her? She groaned as she looked at the ceiling.

She vaguely remembered a story her mother once told her when she was still a child living in the Badlands. It was about Glinda, actually. About a made-up ailment Glinda proclaimed her caretaker had so she wouldn't have to put up with Elphaba. And then, a year later, the caretaker fell ill with the same nonsense illness.

_Maybe that's what's happened to me._ Fabala thought. _Everyone in Oz gave my mother a nonsensical illness, and because of their full belief in such a thing, I've been afflicted by it in reality_.

It was true – Elphaba Thropp was not affected by water at all. But she had faked her own death-by-water to leave Oz, and perhaps Fabala was her mother's retribution for that lie.

It had always bothered Fabala, actually, her affliction towards water. It made bathing, walking, and even eating and drinking, hard. If she cried, sweat, or tried to drink tea, she'd get hurt.

With a determined sigh, Fabala got out of bed and moved towards her chest of drawers. Neatly put in a junk drawer was a quill and a small bundle of parchment. On top of it was a neatly written note. She put the note aside and grabbed a small bottle of ink and a candle. She brought the materials over to the small work bench in the room, dragging a chair with her bad leg as she did so. Even if it made a lot of noise, Aran was the only one who slept under the High Tower, and he wouldn't worry about her.

She put the candle into the small candle holder next to the workbench before putting down the ink bottle gently and the putting the quill and parchment down. She rummaged around the work bench, before grabbing a match and setting fire to it. She brought it to the wick of the candle. When it caught fire, she brought the match back towards her and flicked it out.

With that done she sat down in the chair and uncorked her inkbottle. With a fortifying breath, she dipped her quill into the ink, and began to write. _Magic Words – The Influence of Popular Beliefs and How They Affect the Greater Outcome of Things, an entrance essay by Fabala Thropp for Shiz University._

Mellesse watched the cooking girls with an eagle eye as she set the breakfast table. "Remember girls, apples; Miss Fabala likes apples." She said, noting the pears being put into a basket.

"Right." Said the girl who had been putting the pears out.

Mellesse clucked her tongue, shaking her head. Sometimes these girls...but it wasn't her place to judge them, just help them become better cooks. She had been that girl putting out pears instead of apples once, and she could sympathize.

The rain had stopped perhaps a week or two ago, she wasn't sure exactly which, and she was starting to worry. No one in the Vinkus had heard from Shiz University – Pfen said that there was a boy in the Scrow encampment who had also appealed for acceptance, and had yet to hear anything. She busied herself with the place settings, hoping that she was only worrying because that's what she did, and there was no stock in her gut feeling.

"Hello, Mellesse." Elphaba said, walking into the kitchen and sitting down in front of her recently made place setting.

"Hello, Miss Elphaba." Mellesse greeted in kind, however she realized that it was without any merit on the other woman, because Elphaba had the Grimmerie in front of her, and she was reading spells and discarding them at a rapid succession.

"Good morning, Mellesse!" The Scarecrow said pleasantly. He kissed Elphaba on the cheek, and she looked up at him, blinking. "Good morning, Elphie!"

"Good morning, Master Fiyero." Mellesse said. The common knowledge that the Arjiki prince was, in fact, not dead was only common for the house-staff of Kiamo Ko, and both Fiyero and Elphaba planned to keep it that way until his...predicament, could be reversed.

"What's put you in such a good mood this morning?" Elphaba asked over the top of her book as she watched The Scarecrow walk over to his seat opposite her.

"Good morning, Master Scarecrow!" The kitchen hands called in unison. He tipped his head to them, before turning to Elphaba, smiling mysteriously.

"You know me, I'm always happy." He said, sitting down. She went back to her book, eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"Yes, you're always happy when you're up to something." She muttered. She blinked, looking up again. "Aren't we missing a few members of our breakfast table?" She asked.

"I suppose you're right." The Scarecrow said, feigning ignorance. Elphaba was about to answer when Mellesse gasped.

"Oh, I should set...I should...never mind giving me that glare, Miss Elphaba, we're all immune to it by now...pardon me, Miss Glinda."

"...Gl...in...da....?!" Elphaba said very slowly as she closed her book and turned. There was Glinda, holding two important-looking envelopes. She was in her a vision in pink, as she had always been at Shiz, and behind her was a small blonde girl with a sour expression on her face.

"I hope I'm not interrupting breakfast, Elphie!" Glinda said, all smiles, as she ignored her best friend's shocked and slightly put-off expression. "But the messengers are still not quite up to visiting you, and I thought you'd like your privacy, so I decided I should give these to Aran and Fabala personally to make sure they got them!" Mellesse bustled about making two extra place settings for Glinda and her younger double. The kitchen staff curtsied as well as they could to Glinda, before starting to make extra breakfast for them.

"Hello, Glinda, what a pleasant surprise!" The Scarecrow said, getting up and bowing lightly. "How's Oz? Is it easy to rule by yourself?"

Glinda smiled to herself. "Well...I'm not ruling on my own any more. Now that Ozma and Dorothy are out of Shiz," she ignored the yellow tingeing Elphaba's cheeks at the mention of the girl who had been given Nessarose's shoes, "I've decided to start a triumvirate rulership. Dorothy takes care of matters in Munchkinland, Ozma takes care of the matters of the Quadlings and tries to protect them from the Gale Force's enslavement campaign, and, well, I take care of matters in the Emerald City and Gillikin." She moved to sit down, but Elphaba moved in front of her.

"And the only reason you're here...is to give those letters to Fabala and Aran, and then leave?" She asked, a hint of anxiety in her voice. Glinda put a hand on her friend's.

"Yes." She said. "I also brought Nissa because she'll be in their class next year, and I thought they should start off better than we did."

She sat down and looked around, playing with the acceptance letters. "Now...where are they?"

"Oh...they went outside about an hour ago, to see that cave they rave about all the time." Mellesse answered, putting down a large plate of shortcakes.

Glinda looked at Elphaba, almost on the brink of jumping up. "Outside...? It's been drizzling for about an hour!"

"Or more." Noted Nissa as she helped herself to shortcake. It was then that the door banged open, and Aran's voice echoed into the alive room.

"...just amazing! I've never seen anyone who could do that before! Could you teach me?"

"I don't think I could...it just...happened!" Fabala answered as they turned into the kitchen. Fabala stopped, looking at Glinda. "Hello, Miss Glinda." She said, nodding. Her eyes narrowed as she looked at Nissa. "Excuse me, but that is where I've sat since I was five."

Nissa turned, shrugging. "Then you should find a new spot to sit."

"Nissa!" Glinda said, frowning at her daughter. "Hello, Fabala, Aran, I think I have something of interest to you." She held up the envelopes with a flourish, and the two grabbed for them.

The two read through the messages quickly, before Fabala looked up, smiling. "I didn't think that essay would get me in; I thought it would get me kicked out before I was even in." She said.

Elphaba was looking at her daughter curiously. "Is it raining out?" She asked, noticing that there were no red marks on the dark skin.

Fabala opened her mouth to answer, but Aran jumped in. "It is; but we didn't know that until we came out of the cave; we were talking about what the writing on the walls might mean, it looked like a prophesy of some sort, but we couldn't make out any words."

"It could have been a prayer." The young atheist pointed out.

"Anyway, we were walking out, and Fabala noticed that it was raining, and she said we needed an umbrella to protect her, and as we got out into the rain and were ready to run, we realized we weren't getting wet!"

Glinda beamed. "That's wonderful, dear!" She decreed. "You could be wonderful at sorcery, perhaps even have as much power as your mother."

"Power...?" Fabala asked, looking at Elphaba skeptically.

Elphaba smiled. "Just don't let anyone abuse your powers and yourself." She said, before going back to her book. Aran sat down in his seat, sending a quick glance at Nissa.

"You're in trouble now." He muttered to her, watching the storm clouds pass over Fabala's face.

"Get...out...of my seat...now." She said, her voice deadly.

Nissa turned, a faux smile on blinding. "Make me." She answered. Aran groaned, grabbing a shortcake and some strawberries.

Fabala raised one eyebrow, and crossed her arms.

"Nissa, move!" demanded Glinda. The girl looked between her mother and Fabala, before getting up and moving, harrumphing lightly. Fabala sat down and flicked the shortcake towards Nissa.

"I think this belongs to you." She said. Nissa jumped as the projectile landed on her plate, and she glared at Fabala.

"How dare you."

"How dare I? You're the one who came into my home and decided to take over within, what, five, six minutes?" Fabala let off a coy smirk. "I'm terribly sorry, princess, but I think I missed the message that you were now the daughter of the ruler of the Vinkus."

"Technically, she is." The Scarecrow pointed out. Fabala turned to him, and Nissa smiled in satisfaction.

With a sigh, Fabala stood and started out. Elphaba watched her go, while Glinda glared at her daughter. "Go apologize."

"That may not be the best idea; Fabala's my daughter." Elphaba pointed out reasonably.

Nissa looked from the green woman to Glinda and back. "Well, what are you waiting for? You two are sister's you shouldn't be fighting like this!" Glinda said, watching as Elphaba's head whipped around and was surprised when the woman nodded.

"Even if you two are only half-sisters, you two should try to get along; you never know when you'll need each other."

With a melodramatic sigh, Nissa got up from the table and dragged herself behind the retreating Winkie. "Fabala, wait!" The dark girl turned, sapphire eyes sparkling with suppressed annoyance.

"What do you want?" She asked, leaning on the railing and staring Nissa down.

"I've been sent to apologize." She said. They stared at each other for a few moments, before Fabala inclined her head.

"Well...?"  
"Well what? Isn't that enough for you?" Nissa demanded.

"That's not an apology, that's a statement." Fabala said, teeth clenched together.

"Well, I can only give you a _statement_ then."

Fabala growled and stormed further up the stairs. "What do you want, then, a written letter listing all the reasons why I shouldn't be sitting in a stupid chair?" Nissa asked, following behind.

Fabala jerked around, and Nissa nearly lost her balance. Fabala caught her by the arm, pulling her up. "Just because we happen to be related does not mean I have to be nice to you or even like you. And it may be hard for your blissful blonde brain to wrap around, but I don't intend to be your friend, whether at Shiz or here, because you are what normal people call a spoilt brat, and until you can find time to start treating people civilly and start listening to what they say and start giving up your own things for other people, I will not treat you civilly nor will I listen to what you say nor will I give up my own things for you. Is that understood?" Fabala said. She realized she was still holding the other girl steady and let go as if she had touched water.

Nissa's brow furrowed. "What, exactly, does that mean?" She asked.

Fabala let out a frustrated growl. "I _loathe_ you." She said, going the rest of the way up the steps and slamming the door shut.

Nissa just stood there for a moment, confused, before she straightened and looked at the door crossly. "Well, good, because I loathe you, too!" She called, walking downstairs.

Glinda and Nissa left that day. Fabala didn't come out of her room even after they left, and ignored all the knocks on her door that came mostly from a very worried Scarecrow and Aran. She had her faced buried in her pillow when she heard the door click open.

"Go away." She called, although it was stifled by her pillow.

"That was quite a show you put on out there; we could all hear you in the kitchen." Elphaba said, closing the door behind her and sitting on her daughter's bed. Fabala picked her head up, and looked at her mother. "You know, she might not admit it, but Glinda was almost like Nissa when we first met...though Nissa is a little worse."

"No kidding." Fabala said. Elphaba looked at her, and Fabala pulled herself up and leaned her head on Elphaba's shoulder; she needed her mother more than she expected, and she relaxed once her mother's arm was wrapped around her waist, pulling her into a protective embrace.

"You have to show her how to be better; you two will be good for each other once you both get off of your pedestals and try to find some basis for a friendship. I might not be the best authority on this subject, but I know I'm going to miss you once you go away, and you need as many allies as you can get once people learn you're a Thropp." She pushed a stray strand of dark hair out of Fabala's face, and felt the girl nod on her shoulder.

"I won't promise any miracles, but I'll try." She said.

"You won't promise miracles? You've already proved yourself capable of those with that invisible umbrella trick this morning." Elphaba said. Fabala laughed quietly, letting go of her mother.

"Thanks." Elphaba looked at her.

"For what?"  
"For believing in me."

"That's my job, I'm your mother." Elphaba traced one green hand down Fabala's cheek, stopping to cup her daughter's chin. "Believe in yourself, Fabala. Shiz won't be easy, and they'll be more than just prejudices against Winkies that you'll come to face, but let people in. Glinda and your father were my only friends at Shiz; even Nessa never truly believed in me, and believe me, even if you have Aran, you'll need more support."

"I'll be fine." Fabala objected.

Elphaba smiled. "I know. I'm not really worried for you; I'm worried for the people who get on your bad side." She kissed her daughter's forehead gently, and rubbed the spot she had kissed with the pad of her thumb, taking the moisture off. "Come on down, Mellesse has made a celebratory dinner in your and Aran's honor." Fabala nodded, getting up and following her mother out of the door.

In another year, she'd be gone. She'd be at Shiz; she'd be...a very small fish in a very big pond.


	7. Epilogue

Title: Entertaining Destiny  
  
Author: Aerohead  
  
Email: In my profile

Website: In my profilePairing: Fiyero/Elphaba, Fiyero/Glinda, Glinda/OC, OC/OC  
  
Rating: PG13  
  
Disclaimer/Dedication: For L. Frank Baum, Gregory Maguire, Stephen Schwartz, and Winnie Holtzman who own this idea that I'm extending. Thank you for giving me the first part.  
  
Warning: spoiler for the ending of the musical Wicked, but that's pretty much about it.  
  
Genre: Romance, adventure (book/play amalgamation)  
  
Summary: The Vinkus is being used as a way for Quadlings to be taken to the Gillikin emerald mines. When a Quadling boy helps her daughter, Elphaba decides to stop the Gale Force from using Kumbricia's Pass as a way to smuggle people.

Epilogue

Fabala yawned as she rolled over. She wasn't usually a heavy sleeper – she usually only slept until the East Window started to glow with the sunlight over the Grasslands and she couldn't hide from the next day anymore.

Why she had chosen to sleep in the High Tower, she'd never know. It was one of those impulse things she usually didn't go by.

She dressed and closed the bag she had packed before she walked down the stairs and rapped on the door at the landing.

"Get up Aran, before I decide to leave without you."

"Evil Winkie." came the reply from the other end of the door. Fabala shook her head, surprised that he was still in bed. She started down towards the kitchens, when Mellesse stopped her.

"Miss?" said the Arjiki woman, and Fabala turned to her. "I was wondering...well...are you sure you'll be alright that close to the Emerald City?" Fabala smiled, nodding. She walked into the kitchen, looking around at the food in the cooking area. Careful not to repeat her mistakes from two years ago, she kept her hands to herself until she saw an apple. She picked it up and took a bite out of it.

"Goodbye, Miss!" Tempress called, standing next to her father in the main foyer. Fabala smiled and hugged both Tempress and Pfen, before going out of the foyer and into the bright sunlight of the Vinkus.

She blinked back the light, staring blankly at the carriage waiting there.

"Surprised?" asked The Scarecrow from behind her. She turned, nodding. The Scarecrow smiled. "I thought you and Aran should travel to Shiz like normal students." Fabala peered over her shoulder at the carriage, just to make sure it was real. The Scarecrow shrugged – she could hear the straw shifting as he did so – and said, "It's the thought that counts, right Faeba?"

She turned, hugging him tightly. "Of course." She laughed. He looked over her shoulder, before putting his mouth near her ear.

"You're mother's working, but she sends her love. She says she's on the right track this time." Fabala pulled away, delighted by the news.

"That's...wonderful!" She said. She disentangled herself from The Scarecrow and moved to the back of the carriage, putting her things away. There was shuffling behind her, and a bag went sailing over her head, landing slightly neatly on top of her own.

She turned, eyeing the yawning Aran critically.

"Sorry, Fae." He said. She winced at the nickname, but he was delighted to see that she didn't say anything. He moved past her into the carriage, and Fabala followed.

"Be careful!" The Scarecrow called as the carriage left.

"We will be!" Fabala promised as she waved goodbye to the slowly shrinking figure. She settled into her seat, ignoring Aran's shifting, and she soon drifted off to sleep.

Aran was having a difficult time keeping calm, though. He watched Fabala for a few minutes, biting his lip as he thought, before he stared out the window. He watched the Vinkus slowly shrink away, and Gillikin come into view, and only occasionally asked the driver where they were to make the silence in the cab go away.

There was five or so minutes left until they reached the Vinkus when Fabala stirred.

"Where are we?" She asked. He jumped, not expecting her to be awake, and kept looking out the window to hide his blush of embarrassment.

"Oh...we're in Gillikin." He said mildly, watching as the treeline changed and a foreboding group of buildings came into view. He gulped, watching them come closer. Fabala was quiet, so he continued to prattle. "We've been following the Vinkus River until it became the Gillikin River. We've been traveling about, maybe, twelve hours? According to the sun, anyway." He sighed, feeling for something in his pocket, before pulling it out. "Faeba...Fabia...er, this should be easier." He turned to her with a sigh, before taking out a necklace and giving it to her. She seemed shocked, but he couldn't look at her face – especially not her eyes – or he wouldn't be able to talk at all. "My-my mother made this...It's the only thing I can remember about her – her making this necklace and using the only two emeralds she had. It was when I was five, and she told me to give it to the one person I...well, I can't remember the exact words...but she told me to give it to someone I love...and, well...after everything you've done for me, Fae, you're the closest thing I can remember to ever having a sister or a friend and this is the only way I can repay you..." She just looked at him, stunned, and maybe there was a pang of something flickering across her face, but Aran figured that was just wishful thinking – Fabala kept her emotions very close to her, and didn't emote much. "Please, take it?" he begged.

Fabala took it carefully. It was a silver and brass witch's hat with two emeralds on either side. It had been made for some rich Gillikin or another on the anniversary of the death of the Wicked Witch of the West, but Aran barely remembered his mother giving it to him at the last moment.

"Thank you, Aran, it means a lot to me." She said quietly after a long period of excruciating silence. She pulled him close and hugged him tightly, and he could tell that she meant every word she said. When she pulled away, he could barely catch his breath. She...she hugged him!

She touched his hand, and he looked up at her. She was holding out the necklace in front of him, and his heart sank for a moment, before he looked up into her confused blue eyes. Oh...right...put it on her. He blushed to himself at his own ignorance, before taking the necklace back. She turned and he put it on, careful not to snag her braid in the clasp as he did so. She touched it around her neck, and as she turned, he smiled, nodding. "Beautiful." He whispered.

Neither had noticed that the carriage had stopped, and Fabala jumped, looking out of the window. "Well, here we are." She said, and Aran couldn't help but to pick up on the disappointed tone in her voice.

"Yes, here we are." He repeated, not sure what else to say. She slid out of the carriage, and he followed. They both moved to the back of the carriage and grabbed their bags in unison, before facing each other, not sure what to do. He smiled weakly, before stepping towards Briscoe Hall. "Oz bless you, Fae." He muttered.

She smiled at the sentiment. "We'll see each other in class, but Oz bless you as well, Aran." She said, kissing his cheek in a friendly gesture before fleeing towards Crage Hall.

Aran touched his cheek gently, watching her walk with determination in every step towards Crage Hall. He heard snickering from behind him, and he flushed, trying desperately to imitate Fabala's glare in the boys' direction. It failed miserably, and with his head down to hide his childish embarrassment, he slunk off towards Briscoe Hall.


End file.
